


Sweet Nothings

by JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle



Series: post 3.11 [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1, M/M, Post 3.11, baking porn, mentions of Shitty Knight and Caitlin Farmer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8223151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle/pseuds/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle
Summary: Bitty really likes to sweet talk his food.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me after the negotiation in "Fo-inne!"   
> As always, everything belongs to Ngozi.  
> Unbeta'd, so please tell me about any mistakes.

1\. Betsy

Holster stamped the slush off his feet before stepping into the front hall and closing the door behind him.

The Haus was usually quiet at this time on a Tuesday, and Holster wanted nothing more than to grab a snack and head up to the attic where he knew he should work on his econ. More likely, he’d zone out in front of two or three episodes of _30 Rock_ before falling asleep. That would give him at least an hour to nap before practice. His homework would still be there tonight.

He usually studied in the library in the afternoon, but his test this morning had left him wiped.

As he moved toward the kitchen, he was arrested by the sound of a low, sweet voice.

“Come on, darling, you’re so good for me. So hot, just when I need it. I don’t know how I managed before you came into my life.”

Bitty. He was the only other resident of the Haus who had no Tuesday afternoon classes, and he wouldn’t be expecting Holster to come home. Bitty was taking advantage of his alone time, and Holster had him dead to rights.

“Come on, baby doll, just a little more,” Bitty said. “You’re almost there.”

Then Holster rewound what he had heard. “You’re so good for me”? “Baby doll”? Was Jack really into that? Well, Shitty had spent enough time lecturing the team (really, anyone who would listen -- and many who wouldn’t) about the dangers of heteronormativity, toxic masculinity and kink shaming. If that was what Jack and Bitty were into, well, good for them. All Holster knew was that he had heard a “darling” and a “baby doll” and those were definitely pet names. He stepped back into the living room and grabbed the sin bin from its home above the TV, then burst into the kitchen, yelling “Fo-inne! I heard you, Bitty!”

Bitty jumped back from the open oven, his face flushed from the heat, and leaned against the table.

“What? Oh, goodness, Holster, you startled me. I thought I was alone. You should let people know when you come in.”

“‘Thought’ being the operative word,” Holster said. “Where’s your phone? You can tell Jack you got fined -- twice -- in case he wants to pay for you.”

“Tell Jack?” Bitty said. “I wasn’t talking to Jack.” He pulled his phone -- screen dark -- from the back pocket of his jeans. “I was talking to Betsy Jr. here. I wanted to make sure she preheated all the way to 450 before I put these pretzels in. They only bake for a few minutes, but it has to be at a high temperature, and I could never count on the original Betsy to maintain that kind of heat.”

Holster looked from the locked phone to the baking sheets with neatly twisted pretzels. He put the fine jar down with a shrug.

“How long until they’re ready?” he asked.

2\. Royal icing

“Oh my gosh, how can you be so fussy?”

Lardo was coming downstairs when she heard Bitty raise his voice in the kitchen.

“I had no idea this would be so hard.”

Lardo stopped in her tracks. Were Jack and Bitty having trouble so soon? They’d been so happy the other week at Jerry’s. Poor Bitty had looked so nervous when his Hausmates came in and sat down, but once he realized that no one was upset, no one would spill their secret, he had lit up like a little Christmas tree. Jack had looked, well, entirely pleased with himself, if she was honest. And wasn’t that an unusual look on Jack? It was one he should wear more often, Lardo thought.

Maybe this wasn’t serious, she thought. Bitty sounded more exasperated than sad or angry, and she knew that coping with Jack, especially when he turned non-communicative, could be difficult. Whatever it was, if he ever did anything to hurt Bitty, he’d have Lardo to deal with. She hoped he knew that.

Whatever the issue was seemed to have smoothed itself over while Lardo was thinking. Bitty’s voice had gone soft and tender.

“There you go,” he said,. “That’s the way I like it. Nice and smooth. There you go, sugar. Just like that.”

What was Bitty doing? Going from an argument to having Skype sex in the kitchen? Well, maybe he did need to learn a lesson. Some things really should be confined to non-public areas, at least when other people were home.

“Bits! You’re gonna get fined!” she said, striding through the kitchen door.

Bitty startled, then wailed, “Lardo! Look what you made me do!”

He showed her the cookie he had been bent over, trying to pipe delicate lines of royal icing in the shape of the veins on a maple leaf. The cookie itself -- did she smell maple too? -- had already been frosted a deep scarlet. There were more trays of frosted cookies waiting for him to pipe the veins on. But the brown icing on the cookie in his hand skittered and smeared across the surface of the cookie f when she yelled.

“Oh, God, Bitty, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you were talking to the cookies.”

Bitty grimaced. “The icing, really. The lines are so fine, it’s really hard to keep them even with no breaks. But I wanted to be perfect so I could box some up and take them to Jack’s because his parents are going to be there next time I go. The royal icing dries hard enough that I could make a pretty package and everything.”

“Wait. You made, like, four dozen cookies for Jack and his parents?” Lardo asked.

“No, not really. I was only going to take the best dozen, maybe dozen and a half? The rest I was gonna leave here.”

“Then just put that one in the Haus pile. Do you have another icing tip? I’ll help,” Lardo asked.

3\. Honey whole wheat bread

Chowder was trying to sleep on the disgusting green couch when he heard Bitty talking.

He’d seen Bitty head for the kitchen as he settled down for his pre-game nap and suggested Bitty get some rest too.

“Nah, I’m fine, Chowder,” Bitty had said. “I get too nervous to sleep before games. I’m going to make some bread. There should be plenty of time to let it rise while we’re playing and then I can finish it after the game.”

Chowder must have dropped off for a moment, because the next thing he heard was Bitty’s voice saying, “A little more, honey? Yes, definitely more. Honey.”

Chowder’s face turned red and he debated what to do. He certainly wasn’t going to tattle. He had been fined more than anyone on the team, all because he was the only one in a steady relationship, at least with someone still on campus. Well, maybe if you counted Ransom and March, but Chowder wasn’t sure you could, because Ranson still seemed closer to Holster than March, but no one called the captains out on the pet names they had for each other. Because they were only joking.

But listening to Bitty (“You smell so good. The lavender really comes through.”), Chowder could understand why the team fined people for public displays of affection and pet names. It was a little uncomfortable to feel like he was intruding on a private moment when he was trying to mind his own business.

Chowder hauled himself off the couch and went to lean against the door. He watched for a minute before he realized his mistake. Bitty wasn’t on the phone with Jack; his phone was on the counter, playing Beyonce at a low volume, no doubt to let Chowder rest.

Bitty was bent over a bowl, drizzling honey from a glass jar into the contents, talking to -- well, it must be the honey, Chowder thought.

Bitty must fely Chowder’s eyes because he looked up and saw his goalie standing there.

“You need something, Chowder?” Bitty said. “Aren’t you usually asleep about now?”

“I heard you talking,” Chowder said, realizing after he finished the sentence that maybe it didn’t explain what he meant. Which was something like, “Maybe you don’t realize what you sound like, but it’s OK, because it’s food, but you really should know.”

“I’m sorry,” Bitty said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll be quieter.”

“It's OK,” Chowder said, growing curious. “I just wanted to see what you were doing. That doesn't look like bread.”

“Well, not yet. I'm feeding the yeast to make sure it's still alive. It needs to be in warm water with a little sugar -- or in this case, honey. See how it's growing and getting bubbly? Now I can add the rest of the ingredients and knead it all together.”

“I didn't know you had to do that,” Chowder said. “It's really alive?”

“Yup,” Bitty said. “But it won't be by the time the bread is done. And you probably don't really have to, not if your yeast isn't too old, but that's the way my Moomaw taught me, so that's the way I do it.”

4\. Honey whole wheat bread--Part II

The team dragged themselves back into the Haus after the game, tired and disappointed.

“I fucking hate Yale,” Holster said.

They’d lost in overtime, after a nasty knee-on-knee hit on Ransom sparked Holster to retaliate and Holster was called for the roughing penalty. Yale had scored on the power play.

Not that the team had planned to celebrate even if they won; they had another game the next day. But it would have been nice to come home with a win.

Bitty went in the kitchen and came out with a plastic bag full of ice for Ransom.

“Here,” he said. “You probably want this.”

Holster and Ransom flopped on the couch and flipped the TV on while Chowder and Lardo said their goodnights and headed upstairs.

Bitty went back to the kitchen to finish his bread.

After SportsCenter, Holster nudged Ransom and said, “Come on. Time for bed.”

“Yeah, I'll be up. Let me get more ice so I can do another 20,” Ransom said, grabbing the plastic bag from where it slipped to the floor.

He was carrying it to the kitchen when he stopped to listen to Bitty crooning.

Ransom was no fool; he knew Bitty was baking, and he'd chirped Holster for days when he'd heard about his mistake with the pretzels. But damn if he didn't sound like he was singing to a lover.

“Baby, it’s you, you're the one I love, you're the one I need, you’re the only one I see … Come on, baby, it’s you.”

Ransom peered around the door jamb to see Bitty swaying his hips at the sink, earbuds in, then bouncing to the stove, where a dish towel was tented over four loaf pans. He lifted it and poked at the golden dome gently, pausing to admire the dents his fingertips left in the dough.

“You've gotten so big for me, haven't you? And so nice and round. Beautiful. Just a sec and I'll open you up.”

Bitty pulled a sharp knife from the drawer and drew it carefully down the center of each loaf. 

“Oh, you’re lovely,” he breathed. “That’ll give you a little more room to grow.”

Then Bitty bent to put the loaves in the oven, and Ransom took a second to close his mouth and reflect that if Bitty spoke to Jack like that, well, Jack was a lucky man.

No wonder Holster had been confused.

Ransom made sure to make a little noise as Bitty was turning around so he wouldn't think Ransom was trying to sneak up on him.

Bitty took an earbud out as soon as he saw Ransom and smiled. “Feeling better? Anything else I can get you?”

“I’ll get there,” Ransom said. “I’m just going to get a refill on the ice and head upstairs. How much longer will you be up?”

“Not too long,” Bitty said. “It’ll be about half-hour baking and then I need to let it cook enough to take the loaves out of the pans. But I'll be in bed in an hour. I'm just gonna run up and grab my laptop -- I swear I don't know when I would get work done if I didn't have baking time to kill.”

Random looked at him blankly. “But wouldn't you have more time if you didn't …” he trailed off. “Know what? Never mind. G’night, Bitty.”

“Sweet dreams, Rans.”

5\. Pecan pie

There was no way Bitty thought he was alone in the Haus on the Sunday afternoon after his mother had sent him a care package with five pounds of freshly harvested pecans. 

Bitty had spent the morning in the kitchen, shelling two pounds of nuts and making dough for two pie crusts.

“Just wait until this afternoon,” he told them. “My pecan pie is to die for.”

The crew wasn’t exactly waiting, or not just waiting for pie. Lardo was murdering Ransom at MarioKart to kill time before the Rangers and the Caps played, but the sound was low enough that they could occasionally hear snatches of Bitty’s baking monologue.

The fragrance of melted butter and brown sugar wafted into from the kitchen as Bitty encouraged the butter and sugar to come together.

“Look at you,” they heard. “Beautiful. That's right, keep going, I'll make sure you won't get burned.”

A bright citrus scent followed, and Bitty kept taking. “Just take the first layer off, nice and gentle, don’t want to much of you.”

“That must be the orange I saw on the counter,” Chowder said, looking up from the computer in his lap. “Do you put oranges in pecan pie?”

“You think Bits would share his recipe, bro?” Holster asked.

“I don’t know. Doesn't he do a baking vlog or something?”

Holster snorted.

“If he talks like he does in the kitchen, that thing must be for mature audiences only,” he said.

“Dude, you're just still embarrassed about the pretzel incident,” Ransom said, then groaned as Lardo’s car nudged his off Rainbow Road.

Lardo sped towards the finish and said, “I dunno. Kind of like listening to Shitty watch hockey, y’know?”

The smells from the kitchen had become more complex -- vanilla was definitely involved now -- and Bitty was telling his ingredients what was going to happen.

“I’m gonna make beat these eggs and put them in -- they'll keep it all together. There we go. Now for the pie shells. Look how smooth and soft they are. All ready for the pecans. I know about nuts, y’all. You have to treat them with a gentle hand. They don't like it rough, not at all. Then we pour the warm filling over. Look how beautiful that is. Just gorgeous. I can't wait to get you into my mouth.”

In the living room, Chowder stood abruptly. “I have to go find Farmer,” he said, pulling his jacket over his Sharks hoodie and going out the front door.

“Yeah, I just remembered I told Shitty I'd probably call him today,” Lardo said, heading up to her room.

Holster and Ransom looked at each other.

“Attic?” Holster said.

“Yeah,” Ransom agreed. “It's too quiet down here.”

When Bitty put the pies in the oven, he walked into the living room. He stopped when he realized it was empty.

“Guys?”

+1. Maple-crusted apple pie

Holster dropped his bag inside the front door and sighed.

Bitty was baking again. Of course he was baking. Jack said he'd be over for their game tonight.

He smelled maple and apple -- not really a surprise -- and heard Bitty’s voice. 

“God, you're beautiful,” he was saying. “I don't know when I've ever seen anything so gorgeous.”

Holster shook his head and started climbing the stairs to the attic. He had a nap to take, and he wasn’t going to fall for Bitty’s sweet nothings to his sweets again.

In the kitchen, Bitty turned the oven light on and checked his pie again. The top was browining nicely, and it was almost time to take the foil guards off the edges.

“Aren’t you lovely?” he cooed.

Jack bent down behind him to look at the pie and murmured, “If you keep talking to the pie like that I’m going to get jealous.”

Bitty stood up and wound his arms around Jack’s neck.

“Hush, now,” Bitty said. “You know the pie can’t hold a candle to you, sugar. If I had to choose between you and baking, I’d never make another pie as long as I lived.”

“I don’t think it’ll ever come to that,” Jack said. “At least I hope not. You love it too much.”

“I love you more.”

“ _Tais-toi._ I heard someone come in before. You don’t want them to overhear,” Jack said, then showed he wasn’t serious by nuzzling into Bitty’s hair.

Bitty smirked.

“First, I have it on good authority that my boyfriend -- did I mention he plays in the NHL? -- offered to cover my fines, so why should I care?” He rose on his toes and kissed Jack’s lips briefly. “Second, I’m pretty sure that was Holster, who thought he caught me before. We could have a full-on make-out session in here, and as long as I was baking, any of them -- but especially Holster -- would assume it was all about the food.”

“‘A full-on make-out session?’” Jack said, tightening his arms around Bitty’s waist and drawing him closer. “Like this?”

Jack kissed Bitty, licking at his mouth until Bitty opened to him, then kissed along his jaw and nibbled at his earlobe. Bitty moaned and drew back.

“I said we could, not that we should, Anyway, that pie will be done in a few minutes and then we can go up to my room so I can nap before the game.”

“OK,” Jack said. “And I’ll make sure you sleep well, all right?”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/justlookfrightened)!


End file.
